Have I Figured this Life Out Yet? ...Part Two

So, I've been doing a lot of thinking. This is not necessarily good, but that's what the brain is for, right? It can't help itself. Somehow it just keeps on thinking. No help from the peanut gallery needed. When last we talked about family secrets - here - I mentioned that I didn't have any notion that I had two brothers. Heck, I only knew about one brother - that stinky, annoying turd that was always teasing and picking on me. And now I had another brother??? Older than the first one? Please say it ain't so.

It was.

I seem to have been born into a world of secrets. I didn't know it at the time. Wasn't even really aware of it. Do you know that keeping some secrets can be a betrayal? It's a betrayal of heart, of hopes and of dreams, and truth. Somehow it feels like much of my family life was shaded by closely guarded secrets. Funny thing about secrets. One way or another they do come out. What you've hidden away from others, and from yourself, may fester and ferment, and morph into something totally unexpected. There's no control when you hide something away from your heart.

My half-brother was the first major family secret I learned about as a child. It wouldn't be until I was 50 that I would learn of yet another sibling - this time a full-sibling.

But, I don't want to get ahead of myself. Stay tuned.

As it turned out, I came to consider my half-brother Ron the more trust-worthy of my siblings. He is a straight-shooter, kind-hearted and smart. He always had a smile and hug for me, never selfish. There's not much to say about my other brother. Oh, he was an okay brother to me, but kind of distant. We were relatively close when I was 16 years old and he was leaving for Viet Nam - stationed in Cam Rahn Bay. He actually let me use his Forest Green Karmann Ghia VW while he was gone. That was cool. But, after his tour, he and I never much bonded. It probably didn't help that he was stationed in Florida and has lived there to this day. Still, when we did get together - it was always oil and water.

Life goes on, and I learned to keep my own secret, because my parents were so over-bearing in their world view (can you say "ultra-conservative?"), I could not bring myself to discuss anything of this nature with them. I think I have identified as lesbian since high school. Maybe even before that, but clearly I had leanings in that direction in the late 60's, early 70's. I really had no clue what I was feeling. I just knew that when I dated guys, there was never a spark, and hardly an interest. All my girlfriends were head-over-heels for guys. Me? Not so much. But, I was clueless even when my fantasies turned to the girls I knew and liked so much.

Until college. I lived in the dorm of a Catholic college, while attending a commercial photography school nearby. Ha! My parents must've thought I would stay out of trouble that way. The joke was on them - only they didn't know it. I think Catholic girls are the most risk-taking females on the planet. Sure seemed that way to me. Had my first ever love & crush there. Painfully wonderful. Painfully secretive. Wonderfully involving. Whew!

So my world became Dorothy's Lively Secret. Indeed, little did I see that I was following in the footsteps of my family. Indeed, it was not the healthiest way to become an adult.

Then I made it worse. I joined the Navy. In those days there was no "Don't ask; don't tell." It was more simple than that:

"Hide."

Still, it was amazing how many cool women I would meet in the Navy. It actually was liberating, in a warped kind of way. It was also where I would meet my future wife - in Keflavik, Iceland, of all places...

Does all this make sense? Ask me questions if you're curious about anything.

Have I Figured this Life Out Yet? ...Part One

I was an Air Force Brat. I thought I was the younger of 2 kids (well, really 4 kids, total (I think), but I'll save that story for later in this series of posts).

Me? I had the good fortune to be born in 1954 in San Francisco, at Letterman General Army Hospital in the Precidio. My Mom and Dad were fresh back from being stationed in Okinawa, where they had been quartered in a Quonset Hut. They were stationed on Hamilton AFB, probably living in luxury by comparison. My Pop was a pilot - he had been a fighter pilot in WWII, instructor, helicopter pilot, rescue helicopter pilot in Korea, and a transport pilot in the late 50's and early 60's.

When I was 2 years old my Pop got a transfer to McChord AFB in Tacoma, Washington. I have memories of growing up on Woodbine Lane, friends, family. Rain, snow, kindergarten where I learned to shake hands and be polite. Up until I was 5 years old, I thought I only had one brother, my brother Jack was 10 years older than me. When my Pop again got transfer orders, it was to Hickam AFB in Honolulu. That was when I learned I had a half-brother, who was a year older than Jack. He knew he had a brother, but no one had thought to tell me, just a dumb little 5 year old. That is, until it was time to go to Hawaii - and my parents thought maybe they should tell me since they were going to bring him up from Arizona and then be with us in Hawaii.

At first I remember being incredulous. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around the concept of another brother, and one who was older than Jack. I don't recall how my mom and dad told me, I just remember being quite excited. I recall loading into the Caddy and going for a ride to the Tacoma Bus Station - It was probably Greyhound or something. This was 1959, I think. I remember one of the first things Ron ever said to me was, "How ya doing, Bean Pole?" And that was his nickname for me since forever. He's since transferred it to my daughters, a name I willingly allow them to use.

He is my mother's son, from a previous marriage. Mom won't talk much about that time to this day. Ron still tries to draw information out of her about his origins... That's another story as well.

We had a yellow MG convertible at the time. I remember the running boards on it, and the wonderful leather seats. Pop sold it before we left for Oahu. I wish I could really remember that car better. The "family car" was a powder blue 1956 Caddy. That was some comfy car. We would take holidays and drive down to Santa Barbara on old Highway 99 and 101, to visit old family friends, the Bettencourts. I would stretch out across the seat with my bed pillows. No seat belts in those days. I remember stopping at a motel where each room, or suite, was just a very tall, A-framed, pine log cabin. Reminded me of tee-pees. I slept in a bed in the loft. Sweet! On one of those trips, at 4 years old, I caught my first fish off the Santa Barbara pier. Somewhere in a dusty box there's a small black and white picture of me proudly holding up and displaying my 4" fishy. How cute can you get? Ha!

It was nearly my 6th birthday when we packed up our bags, our home, ourselves, and drove one last time down to California - destination Travis AFB. From there my own Pop would be piloting the C-118 passenger turbo prop plane to our new home in Honolulu, Hawaii - Oahu. The next four years would be my formative growing years. They would imprint me for the rest of my life.

Sometimes You Get Lucky

Last year when I was laid off, I was out pounding the pavement desperately seeking employment. I would go to any interview, look at any position that might be offered. Little did I know that pornography would offer itself up to me as an option.

I remember an interview in San Francisco. It was set up for me by Robert Half Technology - a big name for a big company that does head-hunting. I had gone to RHT and taken their piddly tech exam - which I could have done in my sleep. Somehow that elevated their interest in me. Thing is, the exam was multiple choice and I'm sure my 13 year old could have done as well just by elimination of choices.

So, I get a call from the RHT San Francisco office from a man I had never spoken to before. It was a bit of a cold call and I could hear him swish over the phone. While I never met him, he sure did sound like a gay man. I thought, cool. Family. This might work out okay.

So he said he had a hot lead in downtown SF, off of Market Street. Would I be interested? Well, why not? Then he said,

"Uhm. Do you have a problem with... porn?"

Thoughts are racing. No, I guess I don't really have a problem with porn. As long as I don't have to look at it. And, it doesn't involve children in any way. I'm a live and let live kind of girl. So I said, "Uhm. No. Not really. Why?"

As it turned out, the client was a company which provided pornography online. In my head I'm screaming, "What???!!!? You're kidding, right?" Out loud I said, "Uh-huh."

Oy. Never in my wildest dreams did I consider that I would be asked to interview for a tech position at a porn company.

But, the thoughts were coming fast and furious now. I hadn't worked in months and the bank account was getting pretty lean. I had two kids and a partner relying on me. But what would they think of me? What would I say to them about the business? Maybe I wouldn't have to tell them...? Rats, that wouldn't work! What to do?

Eh. It was just an interview. Let's see how far this roller coaster ride would go. So, I consented to a phone interview, and that went well. Two days later, I found myself getting off BART and wandering around downtown SF. I was a half hour early... it must've been about 9:30 in the morning. There were a LOT of homeless looking people. My oh my.

There were pan-handlers. There was one woman in particular, an Asian woman who had a large suitcase on rollers. Her purse sat on top of it as she pulled it down the street. She stopped a moment, pulled a paper sack out of her purse, pulled a tall beer can out of the bag, and slipped the can on the sidewalk under one of the newspaper stands. She then strode off to a convenience store a couple doors down. The next thing I knew another woman came along and picked up the can - which was evident that it be not quite empty. She took a swig, kept the can and walked off. In the mean time the first woman came back with a new can of beer, put it in the paper sack, put it in her purse, and off she went.

I'm thinking to myself - would I want to take BART into the city every day and be a part of this crowd? Well, I would do it if it meant having food and roof over our heads, given no other options.

So I headed down to the street where the business was located. It wasn't so much a street as it is a large alley. Not a good sign. I find the door - a security door with a camera above it. I get buzzed in. Walk up the stairs into a loft-like area. It's a nicely done office area. There were some big porn posters - nothing overtly outrageous, but still... They ushered me into a nice conference room where we talked about this and that. Technical things, my willingness to be on call, how would I feel about working at home if necessary (there may be photos on the screen), stuff like that.

When I walked out of there, I really, really, really did not want to work there. But at the same time I was struggling. What if they did offer me the job? What if I didn't get any more offers? Could I work for them for a short contract to see?

Eeeeuuwwww!

I hated thinking about it. If I worked there, I couldn't tell my friends, I'm not sure I could even tell my family. What was I to do?

As it turned out, when I got home I worked very hard at getting more contacts. I got a couple of other irons heating up in the coals. By the time the porn-guys actually did call and offer me a job, it was with relief and happiness that I could turn them down and take a contract with a bank instead.

And that, my friends, was as close as I ever hope to come to working in the pornography industry. It makes my skin crawl just to think about it.

Dodged a bullet that time, I think.

An Event Worth Seeing

If you have ever had a secret...
If you have ever wanted to TELL your secret...

You might want to check out the very poignant Post Secrets website. This YouTube video was recently posted there, but I put here for your convenience: